#Brian Epstein interview

[babsi-and-stella]

"There is nothing I would like to do more than to marry. But the only woman I would really consider marrying today has already been found - by Mick Jagger. I'm very, very fond of Marianne Faithfull. She's a lovely girl. A girl like her could alter my entire life." ~ Brian Epstein.

#I just wish that he could live happily as a gay man :(( #poor eppy #brian epstein #marianne faithfull #hullabaloo #interview #friends #cute #the beatles #as tears go by #sixties

[mrepstein]

Brian Epstein discusses Beatlemania and the Press with Gerald Lyons. (Southern Cross Hotel, Melbourne, June 14, 1964)

LYONS: Do you think the press help, in their way, and television too, to create what is going on outside now, for instance? [referring to Beatle fans gathered outside the hotel]

EPSTEIN: They’ve helped, but they got around to it, initially, in England, because it was there anyway. They encouraged it, and they brought it to the notice, or I think they brought the Beatles to the notice of a lot more people, than they had already come to the notice of anyway.

LYONS: In other words, press and television has done your work, in promoting the Beatles, for you? A lot of it?

EPSTEIN: Well it’s helped, tremendously, yes. But you’ve got to take press and television rather carefully, because it isn't always good.

LYONS: I agree with you.

#Brian Epstein #Gerald Lyons #1964 #60s #Melbourne #Australia #Australian Tour #video #interview

[get-back-homeward]

Brian Epstein’s first visit to the Cavern

[O]n Thursday, November 9, 1961, at the Cavern lunchtime session, the tracks that had been running in parallel for so long finally converged.

Brian Epstein’s “My Bonnie” inquiries had taken him so far but no further. He knew it was a foreign record, probably from Germany, and found it “very significant” that Nems had received three orders for it.23 He knew the Beatles were a Liverpool group and for the first time actively searched Mersey Beat for their name. The current issue (which, also for the first time, had a Nems front-page ad) included Wooler’s report of the Beatmakers’ spectacle, and the Beatles advertised for appearances at Litherland, New Brighton and the Cavern.

They were listed three times at the Cavern. Brian had been here when it was a jazz cellar run by its founder Alan Sytner—they’d grown up together, boys of the same age at the same synagogue.24 Now it was “a teenage venue,” the very thought of which intimidated him … though not enough to squash his interest. He phoned Bill Harry, who made inquiries and found out the Beatles were playing the Thursday lunchtime session; Harry informed Ray McFall that Brian Epstein of Nems would be coming down to speak to the Beatles; doorman Paddy Delaney was told to expect him—he was to be signed in without a membership card, special dispensation. Going to see live rock music wasn’t new to Brian—he’d been to Empire shows and, with his sharp eye for presentation, always found the staging dismal, noticing that few acts projected their personality across the footlights—but going to the Cavern was sure to be a different experience. Brian suggested his PA Alistair Taylor join him: they would go for lunch and drop into the Cavern on the way, to find out more about this “My Bonnie” record.

The club was just a two-hundred-step walk from Nems, but November 9 was one of those smoggy, cold early-winter days in Liverpool, so damp that smuts glued to skin, so dark that the sooty buildings lost detail and car headlights couldn’t put it back. Flights were canceled at the airport and foghorns groaned over the Mersey sound: the cawing seagulls and booming one o’clock cannon. The businessmen picked a path through narrow Mathew Street, between Fruit Exchange lorries and their debris, and at number 10 Paddy Delaney showed them along the dimly lit passage and down the greasy steps.

Bob Wooler was in the bandroom when Delaney ushered in their visitor. Wooler recognized him from Nems, though they’d never met. Brian waited for a pause in that cellarful of noise, then leaned across and asked, impeccably RADA, if that was the Beatles on stage, the group on the “My Bonnie” record. Wooler confirmed it was: “They are they, they’re the ones.”25 The visitor made his way to the back of the center tunnel and watched.

It was pretty much an eye-opener, to go down into this darkened, dank, smoky cellar, in the middle of the day, and to see crowds and crowds of kids watching these four young men on stage. They were rather scruffily dressed—in the nicest possible way, or I should say in the most attractive way: black leather jackets and jeans, long hair of course, and rather untidy stage presentation, not terribly aware and not caring very much what they looked like. I think they cared more, even then, what they sounded like.26

The Beatles had started the second of their two lunchtime spots. As Brian watched, Ray McFall made a point of introducing himself to the man whose elegance instantly impressed him, and Cavernites consuming cheese rolls and soup wondered about the natty feller. Margaret Douglas remembers he was “standing at the back, near the snack bar. He looked so out of place that people were saying ‘What’s ’e doin’ ’ere?’ Ray McFall and Bob Wooler always wore suits and ties but they were nothing like Brian Epstein—he always looked like his mum got him ready.”27

The Beatles were rocking, smoking, eating, joking, drinking, charming, cussing, laughing, taking requests and answering back; they spoke local, looked continental, and played black and white American music with English color; John and Paul vied and gibed for attention, George smiled quietly to the side and sang from time to time, Pete drummed and kept his head down. It was another lunchtime session—and not one of their best. They were jaded, losing interest. But Brian saw enough to see beyond:

Their presentation left a little to be desired as far as I was concerned, because I’d been interested in the theater and acting a long time—but, amongst all that, something tremendous came over, and I was immediately struck by their music, their beat, and their sense of humor on stage. They were very funny; their ad-libbing was excellent. I liked them enormously, I immediately liked the sound that I heard: I heard their sound before I met them. I think actually that that’s important, because it should always be remembered that people hear their sound and like their sound before they meet them. I thought their sound was something that an awful lot of people would like. They were fresh and they were honest and they had what I thought was a sort of presence, and—this is a terrible, vague term—“star quality.” Whatever that is, they had it—or I sensed that they had it.28

From Mark Lewisohn’s Tune In (Ch. 22)

#underappreciated how much brian just fell down the beatles rabbit hole like every other fan #i have another post of all the excepts of him talking to people about his idea to manage them and their reactions #everyone kept telling him he was mad we’re so fortunate he was both a gambler and stubborn af once he set his mind to something #brian epstein #the beatles #1962 #the cavern #had to post this to go with the new statue unveiling #i love that they chose this day #i appreciate the details lewisohn adds about his 200 foot trip even more now #200 steps! #its so wild he didnt know about them sooner #he knew bill harry whos paper had articles written about the band and by j&p #i love margaret douglas's bit because you can just hear this whole crowd of beatles fans who recognize him from nems buzzing around him #the blockquotes are from brian's 64 interview with bill grundy and excerpts from the mersey sound (1963) #happy to post the other sources later if anyones curious #tune in #mine

[beatleshistoryblog]

LECTURE 8: ROCK AND ROLL MUSIC: Here is a fascinating interview with Beatles manager Brian Epstein (1934-1967), conducted by Bill Grundy on March 7, 1964. It later aired on BBC North of England Home Service on March 23, 1964. At about 2:39 in the interview, Grundy asks Epstein to discuss his first lunchtime trip over to the Cavern Club in the Fall of 1961, and the subsequent meetings with The Beatles at North End Music Stores (NEMS). I suggest listening to the entire interview. It offers a fascinating snapshot of Epstein at a pivotal moment in the band’s history. 

#Brian Epstein #The Beatles #interviews #1964 #BBC #North End Music Stores #Bill Grundy #Cavern Club #radio

[muzaktomyears]

In 1980 Peter Brown, a former assistant to Brian Epstein who later ran Apple Corps, managed the Beatles and was best man at John Lennon and Yoko Ono’s wedding, started work on the definitive account of the Beatles. With the American author Steven Gaines, he spoke to the three surviving band members alongside wives, girlfriends, managers, friends, hangers-on and everyone else in the Fabs’ universe. The book promised to be the last word in Beatles history. Then in 1983 The Love You Make was published, and all hell broke loose.

“They were furious,” recalls Gaines, 78, still sounding pained at the memory. “Paul and Linda tore the book apart and burned it in the fireplace, page by page. There was an omerta, a code of silence around the Beatles, and they didn’t think anyone would come forward to tell the truth. But Queenie, Brian Epstein’s mother, told us above all else to be honest.”

“Even she didn’t think we would be quite so honest,” adds Brown, 87, his upper-crust English tones still in place after five decades in New York.

Why did The Love You Make, retitled by Beatles fans as The Muck You Rake, incite such strong feelings? The suggestion of an affair between Lennon and Epstein on a holiday to Barcelona in April 1963, only three weeks after the birth of Lennon’s son Julian, had something to do with it, but more significantly it was taken as a betrayal by a trusted insider. Brown and Gaines locked the recordings in a bank vault and never looked at them again — until now.

“Very good question,” Brown says, when I ask why he and Gaines have decided to publish All You Need Is Love, an oral history made up of the interview transcripts from which The Love You Make was drawn. He is speaking from the Manhattan apartment on Central Park West where he has lived since 1971. “When [Peter Jackson’s documentary] Get Back came out, a journalist from The New York Times wanted me to talk. I told him I hadn’t talked about the Beatles since the book was published and suggested he go to someone else. He said, ‘There isn’t anyone else. Paul, Ringo and you are the only ones left.’ And I thought, do I have a responsibility to clear it all up, once and for all?”

After the death of Epstein in 1967, Brown assumed the day-to-day responsibilities of managing the Beatles and Apple Corps. He had on his desk a red telephone whose number was known only to the four Beatles. Unsurprisingly, given his insider status, the interviews make for fascinating reading. Paul McCartney, yet to be asked the same questions about the Beatles thousands of times over, is remarkably unguarded. Asked by Gaines if the other Beatles were anti-Linda, he replies: “I should think so. Like we were anti-Yoko.” On the image the Fabs had for being good boys on tour, he says, “You are kidding,” before going on to reference a notorious incident involving members of Led Zeppelin, a groupie and a mud shark, concluding: “No, not in the least bit celibate. We just didn’t do it with fish.”

Ono, speaking in the spring of 1981, not long after Lennon was killed in December 1980, reveals that she didn’t sleep with Lennon for the first two years of their relationship — “John didn’t know how to make a move” — and claims that she was blamed by the Beatles camp, George Harrison in particular, for getting Lennon onto heroin in 1969. “Everything we did in those days, anything that was wrong, was my responsibility,” she tells Gaines. But everyone, from the Beatles’ notorious late-period manager Allen Klein to the Greek electronics wizard/hustler “Magic” Alex Mardas — “the Mordred of the Beatles’ Camelot” according to Brown — has their own version of events.

Going through the transcripts reminded Gaines of the long shadow cast by Lennon. “I didn’t realise how sensitive the other Beatles were to John’s opinion,” he says, speaking from his home in the Hamptons, Long Island. “Paul worried about what John would say [in the event Lennon died before being interviewed] and was still longing for his friendship. George said that John didn’t read his autobiography because it was called I, Me, Mine. Those interviews were done before John’s death and Paul’s heart was broken, even then. It wasn’t just the break-up of the Beatles. It was more personal than that.”

From around 1968, the transcripts reveal how the key Beatles duo started to come apart. McCartney’s enthusiasm was only getting stronger. But Lennon grew increasingly bored and disillusioned. “You have to remember that John wasn’t in love with his wife Cynthia,” Gaines says by way of explanation. “He wanted to get away from the life he was leading and that’s why he started to experiment with drugs, all the way up to heroin.”

Brown says Ono was, and probably still is, a distant, mysterious character, exactly the kind of person Lennon was looking for, having done the right thing and married the sensible, quiet Cynthia after she discovered she was pregnant with Julian in 1963. “John told me about meeting this woman, and how frustrated he was that he couldn’t get to know her better; he couldn’t take her to lunch because it would cause gossip. I gave him the key to my apartment so he and Yoko could be together in private and thought, naturally, they were going there to f***. When I went home that evening, the apartment was untouched. They did nothing more than sit on the sofa and talk. That’s what they wanted: to know each other.”

Regarding the long-held, unfair suggestion that Ono broke up the Beatles, Gaines says: “Yoko came along at the right moment to light the fuse, but the dynamite was already packed. They resented her, she was difficult to understand and had a deep effect on John, but they were getting more and more unhappy with each other and needed to have their own lives. As people in the interviews say again and again, [the split] was bound to happen.”

It was Brown who in May 1968 introduced McCartney to Linda Eastman, an ambitious young American photographer whom he knew from his business trips to New York, when she came to London on an assignment to shoot the Rolling Stones. “I was having dinner with Paul at the Bag O’ Nails [a club in Soho] when she turned up, so I introduced them and he was obviously taken with her,” Brown recalls. “The following Friday, May 19, we were holding a party for 12 top photographers at Brian Epstein’s house in London when she walked in. Paul says I didn’t introduce him to his wife … but I did.”

If the book has a villain it is Klein, the New York accountant who took over management of the Beatles and sacked everyone around them, much to McCartney’s horror. As Brown puts it: “He was a hideous person. He even looked like a crook: sloppy and fat, always wearing sneakers and sweatshirts. Everything he didn’t like was ‘for shit’.”

You wonder why Lennon fell for him. “The interviews suggest it is because Allen Klein offered Yoko a million dollars for her movie project,” Gaines says. “She was enticed and John would do anything Yoko said.”

“I asked Mick Jagger to come over and explain to the four Beatles who this Allen Klein was,” Brown remembers. “And John, in his wonderful way, had Klein turn up to the same meeting, which was deeply embarrassing. It made Mick very uncomfortable too.”

Epstein, the man who saw the Beatles’ potential in the first place, is a central figure in All You Need Is Love. It includes a transcript of a recording of him from 1966, not used for the original book. It was in the possession of Epstein’s attorney Nat Weiss, and seemingly made by Epstein to mark the end of the Beatles’ final tour. He claims not only that Lennon felt remorse for the infamous comment on the Beatles being bigger than Jesus — “What upset John more than anything else was that hundreds of people were hurt by that” — but that the Beatles would tour once more. “There’s no reason why they shouldn’t appear in public again,” Epstein claims. They never did, unless you count that rooftop performance on January 30, 1969.

“Brian was driving them around the north of England in his car for a year,” Brown remembers of the early days. “This Jewish guy from Liverpool, who was gay, was with these guys who had been hanging around in Hamburg, so both had interesting backgrounds. They understood each other.”

For Gaines, a self-described “gay Jewish boy from Brooklyn”, Epstein is at the heart of the story. “Brian never felt the love of a real relationship. Then he found the Beatles. Everyone thought it would be just another of his phases, but he had tremendous feelings for John, both sexual and intellectual, and that’s what really pushed him. If there was one thing that started the whole thing off, it was Brian’s love for John Lennon.”

That love affair was the contentious issue of the original book. In his interview, McCartney says of Lennon going to Spain with Epstein: “What was John doing, manipulating this manager of ours? Sucking up to him, going on holiday, becoming his special friend.” It wasn’t the suggestion of a homosexual relationship that was troubling McCartney, but the balance of power tilting in Lennon’s direction.

“Paul wanted to be in charge, and he deserved to be because he was the motor, the driving force,” Gaines says. “Paul felt that John would steal away the power. He felt threatened by John’s relationship with Brian.”

“Paul always wanted to be active,” Brown adds. “After Brian’s death the world had to be carried on. Who was going to do that? It wasn’t going to be John, George or Ringo. Brian was my best friend and I was very upset [at his death]. I had to go to the court to convince the magistrate that it wasn’t a suicide, and the following day Paul set up a meeting so we could discuss what we would do next. I said we’d do it next week, and he said, ‘No, it has to be now.’ He was right.”

How did Brown and Gaines feel about the horrified reaction to the book, not just from fans but the Beatles themselves? “The world has changed,” Gaines says, by way of answer. “Now, after all these years, hopefully people can see it as a truthful, loving and gentle book.” It has been decades since Brown spoke to the surviving Beatles and he has not contacted them about this new publication.

What the interviews really capture in eye-opening detail is the story of four young men who became a phenomenon, then had to deal with the fallout as the dream ended. On December 31, 1970, the day McCartney sued the other three to dissolve the partnership, Brown handed in his resignation as the Beatles’ day-to-day manager and officer of Apple Corps. Ringo Starr said to him: “You didn’t want to be a nursemaid any more, and half the time the babies wouldn’t listen to you anyway.” Brown moved to New York and became chief executive officer of the Robert Stigwood Organisation. But the Beatles never fully left him, and in the wake of Get Back — and the news that Sam Mendes is to direct four biopics, one on each Beatle — he decided he had one last job.

“We have finished our responsibilities,” Brown says with quiet authority. “It is the end of the story.”

EXTRACTS

‘It’s like bloody Julius Caesar, and I’m being stabbed in the back!’

Paul McCartney on the Beatles signing Allen Klein as manager against his wishes

[John Lennon] said, “I’m going with [Allen] Klein, what do you want to do about it?” and I kind of said, “I don’t think I will, that’s my roll.” Then George and Ringo said, “Yeah, we’ll go with John.” Which was their roll. But that was pretty much how it always ended up, the three of them wanted to do stuff, and I was always the fly in the ointment, I was always the one dragging his heels. John used to accuse me of stalling. In fact, there was one classic little meeting when we were recording Abbey Road. It was a Friday evening session, and I was sitting there, and I’d heard a rumour from Neil [Aspinall, road manager] or someone that there was something funny going around. So we got to the session, and Klein came in. To me, he was like a sort of demon that would always haunt my dreams. He got to me. Really, it was like I’d been dreaming of him as a dentist. Anyway, so at this meeting, everyone said, “You’re going to stall for ever now, we know you, you don’t even want to do it on Monday.” And I said, “Well, so what? It’s not a big deal, it’s our prerogative and it could wait a few more days.” They said, “Oh no, typical of you, all that stalling and what. Got to do it now.” I said, “Well, I’m not going to. I demand at least the weekend. I’ll look at it, and on Monday. This is supposed to be a recording session, after all.” I dug me heels in, and they said, “Right, well, we’re going to vote it.” I said, “No, you’ll never get Ringo to.” I looked at Ringo, and he kind of gave me this sick look like, yeah, I’m going with them. Then I said, “Well, this is like bloody Julius Caesar, and I’m being stabbed in the back!”

‘You don’t like to see a chick in the middle of the team’

Paul McCartney on Yoko Ono

Give Yoko a lot . . . that was basically what John and Yoko wanted, recognition for Yoko. We found her sitting on our amps, and like a football team, an all-male thing, you really don’t like to see a chick in the middle of the team. It’s a disturbing thing, they think it throws them off the game or whatever it was, and these were the reasons that I thought, well, this is crazy, we’re gonna have Yoko in the group next. Looking at it now, I feel a bit sorry for her because, if only I had been able to understand what the situation was and think, wait a minute, here’s a girl who’s not had enough attention. I can now not make this into a major crisis and just sort of say, “Sure, what harm is she doing on the amps?” I know they would have really loved me. You know, we didn’t like Yoko at first, and people did call her ugly and stuff, and that must be hard for someone who loves someone and is so passionately in love with them, but I still can’t — I’m still trying to see his point of view. What was the point of all that? They’re very suspicious people [Lennon and Ono], and one of the things that hurt me out of the whole affair, was that we’d come all that way together, and out of either a fault in my character, or out of lack of understanding in their character, I’d still never managed to impress upon them that I wasn’t trying to screw them. I don’t think that I have to this day.

How Cynthia Lennon was driven to drink — at an ashram

Alexis ‘Magic Alex’ Mardas on Ono’s love letters to Lennon

Alexis Mardas was also known as Magic Alex, a name John bestowed on him because he was so taken with Alex’s inventions. Alex was handsome, charming, and a charlatan. (He sued The [New York] Times in Britain for calling him a charlatan and settled out of court. He’s dead now.)

[The Maharishi] was fooling around with several American girls. The Maharishi was making all of us eat vegetarian food, very poorly cooked, but he was eating chicken. No alcohol was allowed in the camp. I had to smuggle alcohol in because Cynthia wanted to drink. Cynthia was very depressed. John was receiving letters from Yoko Ono. Yoko was planning to win John. She was writing very poetic and very romantic letters. I remember those letters because John was coming to me with the letters, and Yoko was saying to John that “I’m a cloud in the sky, and, when you read this letter, turn your head and look in the sky, and if you see a small cloud, this is Yoko. Away from you but watching you.” Poor Cynthia was prepared to do absolutely everything to win John. She was not even allowed to visit the house where John was staying. She was longing for a drink. Now, drinks, they were strictly prohibited in the ashram, but when it was discovered that Maharishi had a drink, I said, “Just a second, at least equal.”

‘He’s become so nasty’

George Harrison on reaching out to John Lennon

What’s wrong with John, he’s become so nasty. It sounds like he hasn’t moved an inch from where he was five or six years ago. I sent Ringo, John, and Paul all a copy of my book. I got a call from Paul. He called me up just to say how much he liked it. I shouldn’t have called it I Me Mine, because that title was a bit much. I sent a copy to John. I’m wondering if he’s actually received it, if he’s received it, he probably doesn’t like it or something offends him about it.

‘I told John that ... it was just a nice feeling’

Yoko Ono advising John Lennon how to take heroin

George said I put John on H, and it wasn’t true at all. I mean, John wouldn’t take anything unless he wanted to do it. When I went to Paris [before I met John], I just had a sniff of it and it was a beautiful feeling. Because the amount was small, I didn’t even get sick. It was just a nice feeling. So I told John that. When you take it properly — properly is not the right word — but when you really snort it, then you get sick right away if you’re not used to it. So I think maybe because I said it wasn’t a bad experience, maybe that had something to do with it, I don’t know. But I mean so, he kept saying, “Tell me how it was?” Why was he asking? That was sort of a preliminary because he wanted to take it, that’s why he was asking. And that’s how we did it. We never injected. Never.

‘It was time’

Ringo Starr on the end of the Beatles

Ringo Starr: Well, I’m pleased it happened because in so many ways, I’m glad it’s not going now. It was time. Things last only so long. Steven Gaines: The Rolling Stones are [still] going. Ringo Starr: Yeah, but they’re old men.

(source)

#the beatles #here we go

[gardenschedule]

Paul wrangling John

Brian Epstein made the Beatles PR conscious: he would say, ‘Don’t smoke on stage’ and things like that. I was very pleased that they stopped smoking on stage as I didn’t like it myself. He had no difficulty persuading Paul as he knew instinctively how a band should behave on stage, but John was a rebel and George could be difficult.

Bob Wooler, c/o Spencer Leigh, The Best of Fellas: The Story of Bob Wooler. (2002)

JOHN: The truth about the separation was she kicked me out . . . so I (laughter) was adrift at sea . . . and there was nobody to protect me from myself which is fine. I should be able to look after myself but I never had, and there was Epstein or Paul to cover up for me. I’m not putting Paul down and I’m not putting Brian down. They’d done a good job in containing my personality from not causing too much trouble.

Barbara Graustark, “The Real John Lennon.” Newsweek (September 1980)

JOHN (with mock horror): My “lost weekend”? It lasted for eighteen months. I was like an elephant in zoo, aware that it’s trapped but not able to get out. It’s an extension of the craziness that I’d been doing with the Beatles in Hamburg in Liverpool, but it had been covered up by the people surrounding us. So when I freaked out, there would be Paul or Epstein to say “What he really means is he’s just a normal boy from a normal family who likes to shear sheep.” And the machinery around us would take care of the business. By the time we got to America, we were old hands at it. But if you look back at the Beatles’ first national press coverage, it was because I sent a guy to the hospital for calling me a fag, saying I slept with Brian Epstein.

Barbara Graustark, “The Real John Lennon.” Newsweek (September 1980)

“But all the time Paul, and Brian Epstein we’re always trying to kill me from saying anything. But because I was in so much pain, I’d always get drunk or drugged, and I’d always say something that didn’t suit them. And so always, I would leave a piece of shit amongst the Beatles image. But all the time they tried to kill me and kill me and bring me down to be a Beatle, to be a nice boy, be a Beatle. But if you look from the career of the Beatles, the first national news the Beatles ever got in the English newspapers was when I nearly killed somebody at Paul’s party. So all the famous news the Beatles ever got besides being Go–angels, was when I did something terrible through being in so much pain. So they could never keep me down.”

Oct 1971 - John and Yoko interviewed during John’s 31st birthday celebration by reporter Takahiro Imura

"I constantly saw Lennon and McCartney together because Paul came along to see that I wasn't rude to John - who I can't say I got on with. Paul didn't want me to upset John."

Sir Joseph Lockwood - Northern Songs: The True Story of the Beatles Song Publishing Empire, Brian Southall, 2008

Sometimes, though, I certainly thought John was being a complete idiot. Even though I was younger, I would try to explain to him why he was being stupid and why something he’d done was so unlike him. I remember him saying things to me like, ‘You know, Paul, I worry about how people are gonna remember me when I die.’ Thoughts like that shocked me, and I’d reply, ‘Hold on; just hold it right there. People are going to think you were great, and you’ve already done enough work to demonstrate that.’ I often felt like I was his priest and would have to say, ‘My son, you’re great. Just don’t worry about that.’

Paul McCartney, in The Lyrics (2021).

It came as a welcome relief that John and Paul, along with Neil Aspinall, planned a quick trip to New York on May 11, where several press events had been scheduled to announce Apple Records in the States. Friends agreed that getting John away might do him a world of good; being alone, with just Paul to steady him, might have a calming influence. Paul was grappling with his own set of anxieties. “We wanted a grand launch,” Paul said, “but I had a strange feeling and was very nervous.” Drugs, he later admitted, may have been at the root of his problem

Bob Spitz, The Beatles: The Biography, 2005

“The setting is the Blue Angel and Paul McCartney is upstairs talking to some press people, while in the basement is John Lennon shooting his mouth off, well away with the drink or whatever. He said, “Hitler should have finished the job”, meaning that the gas ovens should have been more active than they were. His manager was Jewish and I prevailed upon him to be quiet because the press were upstairs, but he didn’t take any notice of me. I told Paul that John was shooting his mouth off and that the press must not get wind of it. ”

Bob Wooler, c/o Spencer Leigh, Best of the Beatles: The Sacking of Pete Best. (2015)

“The party was at Auntie Gin’s house in Huyton. By now, Paul could afford a marquee in the garden.This is inside the house, where my comedy group, Scaffold, are performing for the guests. John Gorman and Roger McGough are onstage, and I’m photographing reactions to the act. The jokes are going well with Paul, his girlfriend Jane Asher, and an old school chum, Ivan Vaughn, but John Lennon was so pissed he kept shouting, ‘That’s not funny’ (until Paul told him to ‘Shhh!,’ which he did)…” -

Mike McCartney

[After John pours a beer on Chris Montez' head and starts a brawl] Everyone settled down in their seats. Paul McCartney tried to make peace with Chris. Chris said, “Paul sat by me and said, ‘Come on, Chris, let’s be friends….’ “I said, ‘Paul, just get away from me, I don’t want nothing to do with you guys. You know, you pissed me off!” As for Lennon, Chris recalled, “John? I guess he was a wise guy. But I got the sense that, I shouldn’t say this, that he was jealous of who I was or what I did. I don’t know what his problem was, but I didn’t like it too much.”

THE TRUTH BEHIND THE BRAWL BETWEEN JOHN LENNON AND CHRIS MONTEZ IN 1963! EXCLUSIVE!

JOHN: I used to try to get George to rebel with me. I’d say to him, “Look, we don’t need these fuckin’ suits. Let’s chuck them out of the window.” My little rebellion was to have my tie loose with the top button of my shirt undone. Paul’d always come up to me and put it straight.

John

PAUL: There’s a story that I used to straighten John’s tie before we went on stage. That seems to have become a symbol of what my attitude was supposed to have been. I’ve never straightened anyone’s tie in my life, except perhaps affectionately.

The Times Profile of Paul McCartney – 1982

I spoke to Paul about this night many years later, and he confirmed that he and George had been shaken rigid when they found out we were up on the roof. They knew John was having a what you might call a bad trip. John didn’t go back to Weybridge that night; Paul took him home to his place, in nearby Cavendish Road. They were intensely close, remember, and Paul would do almost anything for John. So, once they were safe inside, Paul took a tablet of LSD for the first time, 'So I could get with John’ as he put it- be with him in his misery and fear.

George Martin, With a Little Help from My Friends: The Making of Sgt. Pepper

AW: Isn’t he? Well, you know, of all the people, he comes through a lot of stick. Or a lot of people think he comes through a lot of stick in my book. But that’s the way John behaved. He behaved really outrageously. And Paul used to pour the oil on the troubled waters, as it were. But of all the people, only John, out of all the Beatles, have said that my book is the only book that gives a true insight to what it was to be an early Beatle. I admire him for that.

All You Need Is Love – Peter Brown & Steven Gaines

“We were in a daydream till he came along. We had no idea what we were doing. Seeing our marching orders on paper made it all official. Brian was trying to clean our image up, but, at the same time, he didn’t want us suddenly looking square. He would tell us jeans were not particularly smart and could we possibly manage to wear proper trousers. He literally fuckin’ cleaned us up! There were great fights between him and me, over me not wanting to dress up, and he and Paul wanting me to dress up. In fact, he and Paul had some kind of collusion to keep me straight.

The Beatles Off the Record (Keith Badman)

#the beatles #paul mccartney #john lennon #mclennon #you can only assume john loves being taken care of by bossy types #mimi -> brian/paul -> yoko

[idontwanttospoiltheparty]

ok I need you to discuss this John is My Son thing because like I also feel that Sometimes I Felt Like His Priest is also really underdischssed!

okay here we go!!!

The quote you're referring to is from the Foreword of The Lyrics. I grabbed some more of it because it's all quite interesting to me.

This was about the same time that I met John Lennon, and it’s pretty clear now that we were a huge influence on each other. Readers might detect duelling emotions in my recollections of John; that’s because my relationship with him was very mixed. Sometimes it was filled with great love and admiration, but other times not, especially around the time The Beatles were breaking up. In the beginning, though, the relationship was a young Liverpool guy looking up to another guy a year and a half older. It was hard not to admire John’s wit and wisdom. But as I came to see him as a person and a human being, there were, of course, arguments, though never anything violent. There’s even a movie out there in which John’s character punches my character, but the truth is that he never punched me. As with many friendships, there were disputes and there were arguments, but not many. Sometimes, though, I certainly thought John was being a complete idiot. Even though I was younger, I would try to explain to him why he was being stupid and why something he’d done was so unlike him. I remember him saying things to me like, ‘You know, Paul, I worry about how people are gonna remember me when I die.’ Thoughts like that shocked me, and I’d reply, ‘Hold on; just hold it right there. People are going to think you were great, and you’ve already done enough work to demonstrate that.’ I often felt like I was his priest and would have to say, ‘My son, you’re great. Just don’t worry about that.’

It's like… there's so much going on here, you know? John is almost paradoxical to Paul: the source of one of the biggest hurts of his life and also one of his great bringers of joy; he's forever petrified as a teenager in Paul's mind and also on some level remains his fairground hero whose shadow Paul cannot escape; a traitor and yet don't you dare depict him being violent towards me; wise and simultaneously stupid.

At its root, I think many of these contradictions exist because Paul is on some level aware that a lot of the pain John dealt him was at least in part due to something John could not help (i.e. mental illness). He can't bring himself to blame John entirely, in a similar way a lot of us fans wrestle with John's behaviour that we know came from a place of great anguish. This has contributed to Paul infantilizing the memory of John; he has an instinct to look after John, and it's exacerbated by the fact that he has aged whilst his conception of John has not (you can see this in the way Paul constantly circles back to the early days of their friendship), which is in great contrast to Paul's memory of, say, Brian:

"I find that one of the interesting aspects of ageing: Brian Epstein never got beyond thirty-two, but I think of him as an older guy even though I’m already twenty years older than he ever got to be." – Many Years From Now.

But there's another element to this… A lot of people on here speculate about why Paul "can't get over John". My answer:

1) John's death was uniquely traumatic to John's loved ones in a way we tend to gloss over.

2) We are not letting Paul get over it! Paul has been asked about John in interview after interview for four decades and his image directly suffered due to the lionization of John post-1980 as well as the way he (Paul) was judged for not grieving correctly. Perhaps he's started bringing John up a lot in interviews in part because he feels he has to, lest he be deemed callous and cold again. (and perhaps he is seeking to nip the Lennon Question in the bud before the questions become, ahem, horribly insensitive) That's not to say Paul isn't weird about John – I think he is! But I think the way he's been made to both carry John's legacy and accept criticism used to build John up and bury his own unresolved anger at John and grieve over a senseless murder publicly and defend John now that his image is being torn down… it accounts for a huge chunk of this weirdness, IMO. Again, I want to reiterate: I think these are generally Paul's genuine feelings and thoughts (and I certainly don't want to imply that all of this only started post-1980... but perhaps there's a reason Paul seemed more measured throughout the '70s) but I think it's naive to act like society didn't help shape the way Paul talks about John and sees him. When you live as publicly as he does and your childhood friendship is one of the most talked about relationships in music history, you are bound to be affected by the general reception.

I also think Paul is often doing reputation damage control. It is very important to him that he and John are remembered first and foremost as friends (hence the offense he takes in the depiction of John punching him in Nowhere Boy) and it seems like, since at least Goldman, he's been trying to emphasize John's softer, more lovable traits. I think this, mixed with the infantilization mentioned above, is where you get stuff like the clip of Paul calling John a little baby or a lovely broth of a boy.

It's all so damn complicated you know? And so fascinating.

#ask #anon #my analysis #jp #meta

[orpheusdrinkinga40inadeathbasket]

The Beatles invigorated the role of the fan because they were the first cultural product to engage holistically with the figure of the teenage girl. They emerged onto ground broken by Elvis and then outpaced their predecessor creatively and commercially. Elvis supplied an avatar for the forbidden promise of sex, but his appeal rested in how easy he was to objectify, his obviousness. Cartoonishly handsome, he was a body onto which the teenage girl could project unspoken and illicit desire. He inspired adoration, but it could not compare to the ferocious awe frothed up among Beatles girls. There is no Elvis equivalent to the term "Beatlemaniac." "To younger teenagers, the Beatles' cheerful, faintly androgynous sexuality was more approachable than Elvis's alpha-male heat," wrote Lynskey. The Beatles offered something more complex than an empty sexual template. They presented an opportunity for identification. A girl could invest her desire in the band, but she could also discover herself there. The gaze cast on the Beatles was a queer one from the start. Before American women looked at the Beatles, they had been seen by Brian Epstein, the closeted gay record clerk who discovered and ferociously advocated for the band when record executives failed to give them a second glance. Watching them play a lunch hour show at a grimy club in Liverpool, Epstein picked up on the magnetic potential of the four young men. In Vivek Tiwary's graphic novel The Fifth Beatle: The Brian Epstein Story, artist Andrew Robinson closes the frame around the future manager's stunned face as he beholds the Beatles for the first time, as if he could sense his life pivoting around that one rapturous moment. "There was some indefinable charm there," he wrote in his 1964 memoir A Cellarful of Noise. "They were extremely amusing and in a rough 'take it or leave [it] way' very attractive." Upon becoming their manager, Epstein was tasked with convincing the world to see the Beatles the way he saw them: via a gaze that desired its objects without othering them. Heterosexual desire spans a chasm, coveting difference. Queer desire pulls together like elements, finding attraction in affinity. That teen girls could even feel the kind of active, demanding sexual desire evinced by their screams was still a novel concept in the early '60s, which carried vestiges of the prior decade's postwar conservatism. "In a highly sexualized society (one sociologist found that the number of explicitly sexual references in the mass media had doubled between 1950 and 1960), teen and preteen girls were expected to be not only 'good' and 'pure' but to be the enforcers of purity within their teen society—drawing the line for overeager boys and ostracizing girls who failed in this responsibility," wrote Barbara Ehrenreich in a 1986 essay. "To abandon control—to scream, faint, dash about in mobs—was, in form if not in conscious intent, to protest the sexual repressiveness, the rigid double standard of female teen culture. It was the first and most dramatic uprising of women's sexual revolution." Befuddled by the Beatlemaniacs' exuberance, interviewers and critics (who were more often than not men) pinned the scream to a desire, of all things, to mother the band. "It has been said that you appeal to the maternal instinct in these girls," began an interviewer in 1964. John cut him off: "That's a dirty lie." Joking or not, he was right. The dynamic at hand did not correspond to a mother/son model. Beatles girls wanted the way men were expected to want: unabashedly and directly, as active agents in the exchange of desire. There was nothing coy about their hunger.

Sasha Geffen, Glitter Up the Dark: How Pop Music Broke the Binary

#sasha geffen #glitter up the dark #the beatles

[mythserene]

Call him “Epstein” – How far is Mark Lewisohn willing to go to force a false narrative?

 “I don’t care what you think of Klein, call Klein something else. Call him ‘Epstein’ for now, and just consider the fact that three of us chose ‘Epstein.’”

John Lennon to Jann Wenner, Rolling Stone, May 14, 1970 

I keep asking “Why do you want me to believe John —(or George or Paul or or or)—said this?” And I keep asking because that is the question that keeps coming out of my mind, my mouth, and my keyboard.

It's the obvious question. (Spoiler: audio below of Lewisohn answering it for this quote.)

When you’re going to so much trouble to quote shop and quote twist, you have a purpose that you are torturing all these words to back up. You are trying to prove a point and there’s no real quote to support your position, so instead of changing your position, you act like Beatles’ words are appetizers in a buffet.

THREE OF US CHOSE EPSTEIN.

This premeditated and purposeful OBSCENITY has been sitting there for ten years. Two ladies with a podcast found it.

However, John remembered Paul’s attitude to Brian being very different. John was always emphatic that Paul didn’t want Brian as the Beatles’ manager and presented obstacles to destabilize him, to make his job difficult … like turning up late for meetings. “Three of us chose Epstein. Paul used to sulk and God knows what … [Paul] wasn’t that keen [on Brian]—he’s more conservative, the way he approaches things. He even says that: it’s nothing he denies.”(72)

I will never—NEVER— get over this one. There may be more shocking things to come, but it was this revelation that made me look at every one of Mark Lewisohn’s “author interviews” differently.

This is when I realized that there is nothing I would put past him.

Listening to that part of Episode 7 is so funny to me now. Daphne and Phoebe kept trying to stick to the outline and ask “Does this quote back up Lewisohn’s thesis?” but it was very difficult because they were in such total disbelief at Mark Lewisohn’s deception. (My label, although it’s a pretty inarguable one.) It is genuinely almost unbelievably dishonest. AKOM had a whole show filled with whoppers to get through, and they kept trying, but it took them awhile to move on because air-quotes-Epstein was like a magnet that kept pulling them back. So yesterday, to get out of editing some of my own mess, I put together a few of the times that the shock sucked them back in.

“I find that kind of shocking, really.” Tiny compilation of Phoebe and Daphne in disbelief over Mark Lewisohn’s purposeful misrepresentation of a quote of John Lennon talking about Allen Klein to attempt to show that John thought Paul was trying to thwart Brian Epstein. (Episode 7)

And most of us strongly suspect where Mark Lewisohn is going with this. He wants to rehabilitate Allen Klein because John can literally never be wrong—or perhaps an even stronger motive—he wants Paul to be very, very wrong. But whatever his motives, we can see what he’s doing. And we don’t have to just suspect, because he has already told us that he is going to use some of his most unforgivable lies to shape that narrative.

And there’s only one reason to do that: because there are no real quotes to back up the narrative he wants to push.

It tells us, in no uncertain terms, that the narrative he wants to push is quite literally unsupportable.

To make it work, Lewisohn has to lie about what John Lennon actually said.

*This post was first going to be about both the “quotes” that Mark Lewisohn references here, but in the end I couldn’t not give “call him ‘Epstein'” its own post. Which means I have actually shortened a post. (Please clap.)

Every ‘quote’ in the “spanner in the works” section is bullshit. Every. Single. One. I’m not going to the thesaurus for a fancier word. They are bullshit. Complete and utter, doctored, twisted, bullshit. The man is lying. And what really chaps my ass is that he is flat out telling us that he is going to use those same lies to push his bullshit narrative of the breakup. Like damn, that takes a lot of nerve.

Here is Mark Lewisohn telling us, straight out, that it’s these same bullshit quotes that he plans on using again to fool us. And he should be a laughingstock when he does. Not in some quarters. In all.

He must think we are such dupes. Although he’s gotten away with it so far, so up until now he hasn’t been wrong.

(There’s a bit more to this part of the Q & A and it’s all bad, but for this post I decided to leave it at Mark Lewisohn telling us that he is going to use the exact same sources he used for the “spanner” section to push this lie in the upcoming books.)

Fool me twice…

Would John and George have seen the parallel between Epstein and Klein in 1969?  LEWISOHN: ❝Yes. I’m sure the answer to that is yes, because John mentioned it in interviews, probably in Wenner’s, maybe the one with McCabe and Sconfeld— Schonfeld. Yes.❞ (📍Nothing is Real)

Transcript:

Q. In Hornsey Road you were talking about the three-to-one Allen Klein split, and I was saying to you that it seemed to me that it paralleled what is mentioned in Tune In about, uh, the appointment of Brian Epstein. That- that Paul was sort of holding back or was not keen to move forward with Brian Epstein. And I suppose my question was, is there a direct parallel there? And would, in 1969, John and George in particular have been conscious of that parallel?

LEWISOHN: Yes. I’m sure the answer to that is yes, because John mentioned it in interviews, probably in Wenner’s, maybe the one with McCabe and Sconfeld– Schonfeld. Yes. John recognized that.

Nothing is Real Podcast • October 16, 2019, Episode 15 • Mark Lewisohn, Part II

---

And just remember that this is only one half of a hellacious Frankenquote.

(But I kept it short. 🎊 )

----

Even though I have given you zero reason to go there, it's also on my blog.

#the beatles #mark lewisohn #akom #fine tuning #tune in #beatles #historiography #brian epstein #allen klein #john lennon #paul mccartney #air-quotes-epstein #footnote 72 #spanner in the works #lewisohn #call him “epstein” #Spotify

[thewalrusispaul]

Can we talk about Epstein and Robert Stigwood?

I’ve not seen this discussed in the fandom before but I would like answers.

Here’s a few things that make me wonder:

On Friday, August 25, Robin [Gibb] was visiting secretary Molly Hullis (later to become his wife) in the NEMS office when Brian Epstein arrived in tears and entered Stigwood's office. "He closed the door and there was a lot of shouting. When he came out he was still crying. I said, What's the matter? He said, 'I can't talk.' And he went straight out. Moments later, Stigwood told Robin The Bee Gees would be departing for Monte Carlo that night. "Brian had pleaded with Robert to go to Sussex with him that weekend because he didn't want to be alone," says Robin."The Beatles were in Bangor with the Maharishi. And Robert had said no."

Word reached Stigwood and The Bee Gees in Monte Carlo on Sunday that Epstein had died. "It was awful," remembers Robin. "We had this terrible midnight cruise to Nice so Robert could catch a plane back. He had nothing to do with Brian's death, but he felt tremendously guilty, because if he'd stayed that might not have happened."

Source: x

We also know that Robert Stigwood was a closeted gay man, who was working with Brian but it was to everyone’s surprise and the Beatles certainly didn’t take a liking to Robert.

The British entertainment establishment was shocked on January 13, 1967 when Brian Epstein merged his entertainment management company, NEMS Enterprises, with Robert Stigwood’s company. People are still uncertain as to why Epstein made this move. He obviously wanted to reduce his involvement in NEMS Enterprises, but this merger was considered a bold move.

Stigwood agreed to transfer all of his company’s assets into NEMS. As a result, he received major shareholding in NEMS, in addition to a handsome salary and many other perks as could only be expected.

The four Beatles were absolutely livid. They definitely has no fondness for Stigwood. In 2000, Paul told interviewer Greil Marcus:

“We said, ‘In fact, if you do, if you somehow manage to pull this off, we can promise you one thing. We will record ‘God Save The Queen’ for every single record we make from now on and we’ll sing out of tune. That’s a promise. So if this guy buys us, that’s what he’s buying.”

Source: x

It does make me wonder: Brian was always very protective of the Beatles and who was around them, working with them. So where did this decision come from? Robert was going to hve slightly over 50% of the NEMS shares, if NEMS didn’t go to Clive Epstein after Brian’s death.

And the quote above that with a crying Brian running into Robert’s office, shouting and then leaving again, still crying just doesn’t fit in that well with the composed business man Brian came across as.

So here’s what I’m wondering: Was there more to their relationship than business partners? Did Robert turn down Brian’s advances in that office? Was this just another rejection on top of the Beatles leaving him behind to go to India? Was this moment a moment that made Brian spiral even further into his depression?

I have so many questions, but no one has any answers, it seems.

#brian epstein #robert stigwood #the beatles #mention of death #mention of depression

[mrepstein]

‘Man Who Runs the Beatles’ by Adrian Rawlins (The Australian Jewish News - June 19, 1964)

It was through this interview that Brian Epstein met photographer Robert Whitaker. Writer and poet Adrian Rawlins, who interviewed Epstein for the piece, enlisted his friend Whitaker to take photographs. Epstein was impressed with the results and offered Whitaker the position of staff photographer at NEMS.

MAN WHO RUNS THE BEATLES

AFTER one of the biggest welcomes in their careers, the Beatles on their arrival at their Melbourne hotel, were confronted by a hysterical crowd of 20,000 fans.

John, Paul, George and Ringo stood on the balcony, surrounded by security officers, pressmen, radio and television newsmen and the inevitable D.J.s.

Apparently it was one of the latter, himself caught in the mob hysteria, who remarked that the group were greeting their fans “like dictators addressing a mob rally.”

On this cue, the boys swung into an improvised routine and gave mock Nazi salutes.

A photograph of this incident appeared in a Melbourne daily last Monday.

Phone calls, with comments on the incident, have been received at the “Jewish News” and also at the Southern Cross.

I spoke with the Beatles’ Jewish Manager, Brian Epstein, on Monday morning. He is a quietly spoken and urbane man, though does not seem to be unduly sophisticated.

He was mildly shocked and to some degree incredulous that anyone should take the incident to heart.

“It was,’’ he said, “simply an off the cuff joke.”

Epstein, 29, comes of a well to do Liverpool family. He attended “a great number of schools” because he was a “very poor scholar” and at 22 spent a year at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art. He didn’t think much of that, so left.

“I was interested in a great number of things,” he says, “interior decorating, display, a number of things really.” But finally he went into the family electrical business. And it was there as manager of the radio and records division that he first heard the name of the Beatles.

A girl came in and asked for a record by the group. There wasn’t one but the group itself was appearing a mere hundred yards up the road. That was in August 1961.

WANTED TO GO 

He heard and liked them, though he found them “dead scruffy and untidy”. He set about changing the image. He succeeded and the rest is history.

During our chat, the screams and calls of expectant fans floated up to the 12th floor front window like a piteous sea of diseased sound, rising to a peak of despairing imploration then receding to nothing.

Brian Epstein, in a discreet navy and white check shirt with tasteful monograph over his heart, slender slacks and shoes of soft black Italian leather, spoke on, unheeding, adjusted his tie with perfectly manicured nails.

He had, as I entered, instructed the telephonist to screen calls as “all sorts of people" had been getting through to him, including fans.

“The fans should be obvious," he had said.

Referring to the much published Israeli incident, Epstein said that he had made arrangements for the group to appear there in September this year.

When the announcement that the group would not be allowed to perform there was made, he closed negotiations. The Israeli promotors were aghast.

Epstein wanted to wait till an official retraction of this statement which had not been official, was made. None came and so the group will not appear in Israel, much as he and the boys themselves would like it to.

Though in February of this year he said in America that he had thoughts of bringing the group back to America “in August or September”.

The Beatles are not the only iron in Mr. Epstein’s well controlled fire. At present his “stable’’ includes 8 other pop acts, including Gerry and the Pacemakers.

As one of the Beatles’ most serious critics has pointed out, the vitality of the Mersey sound should dominate the hit charts for quite some time.

Mr. Epstein should then have more big names if, and when, the Beatles fade away.

Brian Epstein, though he now lives most of the time in London, is still a member of the family shule, Greenbank Drive Hebrew Congregation.

His father, Harry, has just joined the Board of Management and, says a proud son, “God willing, he should be President in 8 years’ time.”

#Brian Epstein #Adrian Rawlins #The Beatles #Robert Whitaker #1964 #60s #Australia #Australian Jewish News #interview #Australian tour #newspaper

[get-back-homeward]

September 1, 1967: John writes back to his father

It’s the first of your letters I’ve read without feeling strange—so here I am answering it—ok?

In the course of my research for the biography, I managed to track down Freddie Lennon. John’s last real contact with his father had been as a five-year-old...

At the end of August 1967, a few days after the death of Brian Epstein, Freddie wrote to John expressing sympathy. Around the same time, Freddie’s brother, Charlie Lennon, had also written to John, saying that the image of Freddie was all wrong, it was unfair of John to refuse to see him, and that Julia was as much to blame for the break-up of their marriage as Freddie.

The upshot was that John decided to write a friendly letter to Freddie, the first time he had done so, agreeing that they should meet.

From Hunter Davies’ The John Lennon Letters (2012) [x]

#john lennon #alfred lennon #1967 #hunter davies #The John Lennon Letters #still trying to get the timeline straight for when john's father reenters in 1967 #comparing Davies account here with his 1985 intro to the bug bio the dates seem to conflict #he says in the intro he makes contact with him in early 1968 and then helps john meet him #but that cant be right can it? #this letter is dated sept 1 #presumably freddie reaches out to john after davies finds him and tells john his stories #he stays at weybridge a while #john helps him get an apartment #he's at the mmt screening party dec 21 #so davies must have had the date wrong in 1985 #but its a curious date to get so wrong with the detail of his ms being at the typist and having to work fast to add the interview content #handwriting #johns letters #mmt era #brian epstein #fathers and sons #aug 1967 #anyhoo i feel like i dont see alot of detail about johns father #but taking stock of 1967 its impossible not to include this #especially with how the bio causes a confrontation and they actually talk for a couple months before it goes sour #and that it all happens right after brian's death #brian dies aug 27 and johns writing this letter to his father on sept 1 #screencapping my bug book reading #bug book list #mine

[zilabee]

Snippets from Ticket To Ride, by Larry Kane, a reporter who accompanied the Beatles during the 1964 and 1965 US Tours:

- My own positive relationship with the Beatles was formed early on. Despite my cynical scepticism at the beginning, I became a fan, not only of their professional personas and their music, but also of the individuals they were. What impressed me most about all of them was their indisputable naturalness and, to varying degrees, the depth of their humanity and their lack of phoniness. Another unaffected aspect of their behaviour that was special to watch and be around was their relationship to each other.

- At one point on the tour, as I interviewed Brian Epstein, I mentioned how he seemed so protective of the Beatles. "Well, it is a simple proposition," he explained. "They are special. I believe in them. They should not be compromised or taken advantage of in any form."

- The Dallas police brandished their rifles openly; this was the first time in America that the Beatles had seen rifles at the ready. I got the impression that we would be well protected on this leg of the tour, but the raising of rifles only reinforced the anxiety that the Beatles were feeling. The expressions on their faces, their eyes wandering around, gave me the feeling that they were concerned about their safety.

- On the flight to Ohio, the Beatles seemed joyful. Paul walked up and down the aisle, winking that Paul wink and acting as host of the day. At one point, he stopped by some members of the group Exciter and said jokingly, "Coffee, tea or me?" On the plane Paul was also the biggest walker. He didn't like being confined.

- I knew we were in big trouble when the upholstery of the car's ceiling [started] getting lower, closing in on my face. By sheer force, the eager crowd, jumping on and pressing against the roof of the car, was pushing the metal roof into a dent that evolved into a sinkhole.

Ringo's smile was a wonder to watch.

- The next morning I discovered that the Beatles, or someone in their party, had urinated on the carpets of their suite at the Edgewater. This was the apparent 'plan' Lennon had mentioned to have the last laugh - or in this case the last drop - against local merchants who had planned to cut the rug up and sell it.

- I realised for the first time that this sceptical, cynical reporter was beginning to fall for the music of the Beatles. I was even humming out loud along to the tune, and I continued to do so throughout the evening. Was it the repetition, the hearing of these songs over and over, or was the music beginning to stir my spirits? Whatever the reason, listening to the music was making me feel happy. (Aug 64)

- I was curious, "How many of you have tickets?" Only a few raised their hands. Once again, hundreds, maybe thousands for all I knew, were travelling - and travelling without a chaperone - just to get close to the Beatles. Remember, in those days, teenage girls travelling alone without a parent or guardian was unheard of, but on this ride they were legion.

- Watching Brian Epstein watch the Beatles in complete absorption was one of the most educational sideshows of both great tours. He truly loved their music.

- Much has been said about the static between Paul McCartney and John Lennon after the breakup. But on our tours, we saw nothing but a sensitive closeness between all of them.

- Brian Epstein and Derek Taylor were initially prohibited from getting in making them quite upset. Epstein was also furious that day because Ringo wasn't wearing a tie.

- One of the girls got through and made a wild dash for the elevator. She tripped on a rug and fell to the floor, trapped beneath the weight of two cops. It looked like a football scrimmage. The tape of my conversation with the girl is missing, but I will never forget some of her words. She said, "They're all scumbags, those cops. They suck." She got up, dusted herself off, left the hotel and made it to the street, where she received a round of brief applause from her soulmates.

- The flight from Cleveland to New Orleans featured a magnificent pillow fight, with Lennon and Jackie DeShannon leading the combatants. It was fascinating to watch John Lennon leaping up and down the aisle and - with that eager smile and those penetrating eyes - toying with the pillows and his targets like a five year old in a playground. Practically everyone aboard got involved until a flight attendant, giggling uncontrollably, broke it up.

- One vivid image I'll never forget is of an ice-cream vendor who stopped in place, stared at the Beatles on stage in front of the grandstand and started crying. I said to him, "Is something wrong?" He replied, "No, their music just makes me very happy."

Epstein: I'm very much a Beatles fan. I've probably felt everything that any, um, male Beatles fan ever felt. All the various things I've liked, I think, is what the fans have liked, both in their music and their general manner. To me, in terms of popular music, the Beatles express a cross quality of happiness and tragedy. And this is basically what the greatest form of entertainment is made up of. They in fact do original things. Their songs are always new and different. So are their performances.

- Suddenly I heard the smashing of glass and watched the people inside the lobby rushing toward the windows. When I arrived by the windows myself, the scene was ghastly. Three girls were lying on the floor, bleeding profusely from head and facial injuries. A fourth was up on her feet and trying to stop the blood flowing from her knees. The force of the crowd had pushed these kids through the glass.

- One of the press cars, the one I was in, had a brief upside down experience. Overzealous fans mobbed our vehicle, began to shake it wildly, and ended up rolling it over onto its side. We remained stuck inside for several minutes before the highway patrol were able to right us.

- Ivor Davis (on seeing the Beatles meet Elvis): "We stood a few feet away, trying not to make them feel like prize horses at stud being watched over the fence to see if they'll mate."

- The flight to Indianapolis was subdued, but thankfully it was also short and uneventful. […] Travelling down the aisle later, John broke out a big smile and said, "So how are the nameless, faceless, unidentified news whores doing tonight?"

- Paul was the master host, providing a welcome that made the extremely nervous fans at home and comfortable. In Baltimore, I watched three girls and a boy leave the dressing room and, in the hallway outside, break into tears. They were tears of relief and joy.

- In a corner, John sat quietly and reached into his jacket for his cigarettes. He pulled out a thinner cigarette from his pack, a marijuana joint, and thumbed his lighter to start it. But before he was able to light the joint, Brian Epstein took a quick detour away from chatting with me and a few others, walked over to John, and glowered at him, shaking his head. John slipped the object of his desire back into his jacket pocket, pulled out a legal smoke from his pack, and lit up.

- Art Schreiber: "They were lonely, isolated from the world, both on tour and at home. They couldn't go anywhere. Remember, aside from all the fame and glory, they were young men, barely out of boyhood. I've always been a pretty tough reporter when it came to the people I covered, but let me tell you, they were terrific. I actually started feeling close to them. They really opened up. I was also impressed with how bright they were. They knew how to treat people. They were terrific."

- Paul would look left and right, and wink to a face in the crowd. It was a sexy form of eye candy, tantalizing the crowd with his head gyrations. Paul was a world class flirt when it came to the fans. And they loved him back.

Kane: Will you ever be anything but the Beatles? Paul: We are the Beatles, that's what we are.

#tantalising the crowd with his head gyrations! #for some reason Brian being furious because Ringo wouldn't wear a tie was the highlight of the whole book for me #it's a great book for getting a real sense of these tours #you get a real feel of the noise and the chaos #and the boredom #and it's interesting when he talks about the differences between them in 64 and 65 #lots of quotes and bits from people who went to the concerts too #beatles books #the beatles #brian epstein #ticket to ride #larry kane

[beatleshistoryblog]

LECTURE 9: BIRTH OF BEATLEMANIA: Ringo Starr joined The Beatles in August of 1962, around the time Pete Best was fired from the band by manager Brian Epstein (which occurred on August 16, 1962). While Pete’s firing was a profoundly sad moment, and almost triggered a riot in Liverpool due to his popularity, Ringo joining the band proved a huge leap forward for the Beatles. Here is an interview that Ringo did on BBC on May 2, 1966. Ringo has always been one of the most likable of The Beatles, and this interview demonstrates why. He was always gracious, kind, humorous, accessible, and patient. In short, it’s impossible not to love Ringo. 

#The Beatles #Ringo Starr #drummers #interviews BBC #1966 #Pete Best #Brian Epstein

[javelinbk]

MK: And is there ever a poignancy for you, looking at these photographs of these young men, some of whom aren’t here any more - I mean George Harrison, Brian Epstein, John Lennon

PM: Yeah, it is very poignant, yeah. Erm… it’s… it’s… it’s great because… you know, whenever you lose someone, I think your natural thing is, ‘well we’ve got beautiful memories,’ and you hold fast to those memories of the good times. You… I don’t tend to dwell on the fact that you’ve lost someone - after a while, it would maybe take a year or two - but then you can look back, and so yeah, I’m looking at George there, and it makes me think ‘god, I met him on the school bus, and he’s my little mate, my little brother,’ you know… similarly with John. You just remember where you met them, things you did, we went hitchhiking together me and George, we went down to Wales once, and then another time we went down to Exmouth, and we just hitchhiked, so we were really close, you know. And then when it came to the Beatles, you’d have this sort of overwhelming stuff happening to you, you knew each other so well that you could lean on each other. So yeah, that’s what I see in these pictures. But yeah, it is… it is, erm… sad, because, you know I’d prefer him to be here.

#here it is #sorry people #isn’t that just kick you in the crotch spit on your neck fantastic? #that triple ‘it’s’ doing a lot of hard work there #paul mccartney #george harrison #paul and george #brothers #interviews: paul #audio and transcripts

[muzaktomyears]

Secret life of the Beatles and the man who got them groupies and pot

Mal Evans was the Beatles’ fixer, roadie and confidant, but little is known about the man the Fab Four adored. Now a new book reveals all

For eight years, Malcolm “Mal” Evans was, in his way, as fundamental to the Beatles as Brian Epstein and George Martin. He was their long-time roadie and personal assistant, sometime lyricist, occasional performer and regular fixer at the height of the group’s fame and beyond.

Over the years he became friend and confidant — attending their weddings, fending off fans, procuring groupies, accompanying them on holiday, joining them on acid trips, going to India on their infamous pilgrimage to see the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi. But Mal’s dedication to the “boys” and his own desire for stardom took its toll, leading to the end of his marriage and his untimely death in January 1976.

Until now, Mal’s life remained shrouded in mystery. Drawing on hundreds of exclusive interviews and with full access to unpublished archives — including his personal diaries, manuscripts and memorabilia which for 12 years were forgotten in the basement of an American publishing house — this is the first complete portrait of a complicated figure at the heart of the Beatles’ story. Just when you thought there was nothing new to know about the Fab Four, here comes the extraordinary tale of one ordinary man right in the middle of it all.

AT 27, MAL HAD FIVE YEARS on John Lennon and Ringo Starr and even more on Paul McCartney, who had turned 20 in June 1961, and George Harrison, still a teenager at 19. Mal – was the odd man out in more ways than one. He held a real job, as a telecommunications engineer for the General Post Office, and he had a home and a family. With his wife, Lily, he lived in Liverpool’s Allerton district, where they were raising their 15-month-old son, Gary.

It was a simple twist of fate that landed Mal behind the wheel of the band’s Ford Thames van on a January day in 1962. Neil Aspinall, the Beatles’ road manager, had fallen ill with flu. He was hardly the only person felled during that severe winter. During the last week of December, a blizzard swept across England and Wales, leaving snow drifts of up to 20ft in its wake.

By the time Mal and the Beatles began the long drive to London, around midday on Monday, January 21, the van’s brakes had begun to slip. During the early leg of their journey, brakes didn’t really matter. But it was on the journey home that disaster struck in the middle of the night. As Mal drove along a quiet rural road, the windscreen “cracked with a terrible bang”, as he’d write later in his Post Office Engineering Union diary. With the windscreen splintered, Paul observed as Mal “put his hat backwards on his hand, punched the windscreen out completely and drove on”.

Mal was left to contend with the gale-force winds now pummelling the van’s interior. The bandmates gathered up stray caps and scarves and wrapped them about their beleaguered driver, who had pulled a paper bag over his head to battle the cold. “It was perishing,” John later recalled. “Mal had this paper bag over his head with just a big split in it for his eyes. He looked like a bank robber.” Meanwhile, John, Paul, George and Ringo huddled together in the rear of the van, sharing a bottle of whisky while stacked one atop the other to generate much needed warmth. “And when the one on the top got so cold it was like hypothermia was setting in,” Ringo recalled, “it was his turn to get on the bottom, and we’d warm each other up that way, and keep swigging the whisky.” It was, in Paul’s words, “a Beatle sandwich”.

All the while, Mal and the boys maintained a steady banter to stave off exhaustion. As the Big Freeze raged — swirling both inside and outside the van — the Beatles regularly pestered their driver about how much further they had to go. “[Two hundred] miles to go!” Mal would reply, referencing the approximate distance between Liverpool and London. In the years to come, “It became our own private joke, and ‘200 miles to go, Mal’ was heard whenever things were tough.”

DURING HIS YEARS WITH THE BAND, Mal discovered that the best way to avoid being ribbed by the boys was to be ready for virtually anything. To this end, he carried around with him an ever growing doctor’s bag to meet the Beatles’ every possible whim. It was swollen with musical instrument paraphernalia — plectrums, guitar strings and the like — along with household items such as aspirin, chewing gum, a torch, crisps, biscuits, tissues and cigarettes, of course. As the years went by, he had another piece of luggage, which he lovingly called his “dope bag”: a brown suede bag with an om sign prominently displayed, complete with freshly rolled joints.

This began after Bob Dylan dropped by their hotel in New York in 1964 during their first tour of North America. Not long after Dylan’s arrival, the Beatles offered their guest a sample from their motley collection of pills — Drinamyls and Preludin (both uppers), mostly. But Dylan wasn’t having it, instead suggesting “something a little more organic”. At first, Brian Epstein demurred, sensing the Beatles’ apprehension.

That’s when Dylan said, “But what about your song — the one about getting high?” At that, he began singing the middle eight from I Want to Hold Your Hand: “And when I touch you, I get high, I get high.”

John quickly interjected: “Those aren’t the words. It’s ‘I can’t hide, I can’t hide’.”

Ringo tried Dylan’s marijuana first. A few puffs from Dylan’s joint left him smiling and suddenly marvelling at the way the ceiling seemed to float down onto him. Soon, they were all stoned. George recalled that, “We were just legless, aching from laughter.” And for Paul especially, the Beatles’ first brush with the devil weed seemed not only mind-blowing, but a moment of great import. To him, it felt exactly like the kind of experience that should be captured for posterity. Having dutifully provided his roadie with a pencil and paper, Paul ordered him to, “Get it down, Mal, get it down!” Despite being quite stoned in his own right, Mal managed to record the Beatle’s most insightful thoughts. The next morning, Mal retrieved the musings, which boiled down to a single sentence: “There are seven levels,” his notes read. Roadie? Bodyguard? Fixer? Now Mal could add “amanuensis” to his evolving portfolio.

AS EARLY AS 1963, it was clear that there was an unusual zeal among Beatles fans, one unbounded by the conventional social behaviours of the day. “As if attacked by a virus that changed their moral standards, teenage girls wanted sex with the Beatles and they didn’t care how they got it,” wrote Tony Bramwell, Brian Epstein’s assistant. “When they tried to grab a live one, crawl through windows or hide in wardrobes, they were sorted out by Mal and Neil Aspinall like M&Ms, to be sampled and tasted first. Brian — who was puritanical where his protégés were concerned — would have had a fit had he only known, but he was kept totally in the dark.”

At its height, the stage and its environs would take on the look of a battle zone. “Unconscious teenagers were being dragged out of the audience,” Mal wrote, describing a gig in San Francisco in 1965, “and we hauled them on to the stage for safety. Some were in a terrible state, bruised, battered, cut and unconscious. Their clothing was torn and their hair dishevelled. We put them backstage, where the casualties mounted into the hundreds as the show went on. A chain of policemen organised to get them to the first aid centre.” At one critical juncture, a fan hurled a metal folding chair onstage. Eventually, the situation became simply too dangerous for the band to continue. “It’s no good,” Brian was told. “You’ll have to cut the show. Only one more song.”

As the casualties mounted, Mal prepared to usher the Beatles to safety. “Sobbing girls lay slumped against the walls or huddled in the corners,” he wrote, “and I caught a glimpse of Joan Baez trying to revive some of them with smelling salts. Every artist in the show was backstage helping out and trying to get the fainting youngsters back on their feet.”

When the concert mercifully ended, the Beatles dropped their instruments, ran from the stage and climbed into an enclosed freight truck to make their escape. Afterwards, “Pandemonium broke out in the auditorium,” Mal wrote, “and I thought the whole place was going to collapse around us. But somehow, the police managed to keep the tide at bay, all the exit doors were thrown open and people were hustled out. The scene behind them was of devastation, with seats overturned, people still trying to get onto the stage and more people fainting.”

By the next morning, the Beatles and their entourage were winging their way back to London. But the perils of the band’s second North American tour would not be so quickly forgotten. For his part, Brian Epstein would chalk up the chaos and violence to lax security. But it was more than that, Mal realised. He had long felt that there was a dark side to Beatlemania, that not all the attendant hysteria could be understood as the simple byproduct of fandom.

Meanwhile, as the tours mounted up, for Mal the sudden availability of sex, seemingly free from consequences, represented an irresistible bonanza. After a lifetime of self-doubt over body issues and inveterate shyness, he simply couldn’t control himself.

“Big Mal was a demon for sex,” Tony wrote. “His stamina would have been remarkable in a harem. In the flat, sooty back streets of Birmingham or Manchester, he was a stud straight from the Kama Sutra. Like sacrificial virgins, a lot of the girls willingly accepted that they would have to do it with Mal to get to John, Paul, George or Ringo, and Mal knew it.”

Years later, John would liken the Beatles tours to Fellini’s Satyricon, suggesting that their worldbeating jaunts were a fantasia of sexual decadence. Lloyd Ravenscroft, the Australian tour manager, confirmed that the band members “had girls in their room, yes. That was in the hands of Mal Evans, who was very good at picking the right girls. It was very discreet and well organised.”

Mal became “a suave and smooth procurer”, in the words of Larry Kane, a broadcast journalist who was embedded with the band on one of their US tours, “able to spot a target with incredible intuition. It was as though he could pick up on the scent of women who were willing. Only rarely did I see him alone in a hotel corridor. At least his flair for recruiting included an understanding of the difficulties the Beatles could face if any female companion was underage or wronged in any way. If one could get an Oscar for safely procuring women, Mal Evans would have received the lifetime achievement award.”

Back home, Mal’s reunions with Lil and Gary were tempered by the infrequency of his correspondence and by the odd scraps of paper his wife had discovered in his suitcase — addresses and telephone numbers, invariably written in a feminine hand, from the “pen pals” he would meet on the road. Mal brushed off their significance, but Lil knew better. “It used to break my heart,” she recalled.

By 1968 — a year in which he had tried in vain to remake himself as a record executive — Lily’s mistrust of her husband had reached a fever pitch. By this point, she wasn’t just finding “silly groupie letters” in his suitcase, but also the occasional stray pair of knickers and other telltale signs of infidelity. She recognised that Mal was being seduced by overwhelming forces, impulses with which she could hardly begin to compete. “One minute he would be in Hollywood,” she said. “The next day he’d be back here cleaning out the rabbit hutch.”

Mal had emerged as a celebrity in his own right, thanks to publications such as The Beatles Book. “It was OK for him,” Neil Aspinall recalled, “going out in front getting the instruments ready. Dead popular he was. As they cheered and shouted at him he talked to them and made jokes. He didn’t have to physically fight them off, once it started.”

All shook up: the Fab Four meet Elvis

ON THE NIGHT OF AUGUST 27, 1965, Mal and the boys met Elvis Presley at the King’s Bel Air mansion. The 30-year-old superstar was in town to shoot the film Paradise, Hawaiian Style.

Prior to his coveted meeting with the King, Mal spent time with Colonel Tom Parker at his Paramount Studios office, where the roadie was lavished with gifts, including a gold-plated cigarette lighter and, to his glee, a white bathrobe emblazoned with “Girls! Girls! Girls!”. Mal not only appreciated Parker’s generosity, but recognised that he possessed “one of the most astute showbiz brains in America”, adding that, “He has wrung every dollar he can out of the Elvis situation — and who can blame him?”

As Mal was lounging in the Colonel’s office that day, the telephone rang. “That was a news agency, Mal,” Parker said. “It looks as though word has got out about Elvis and the boys meeting tonight. There’s a story in the London Daily Mirror. Now Reuters wants confirmation.” At that moment, Mal’s heart froze. “For a moment, I thought Parker was going to call the whole thing off.”

But the Colonel wasn’t to be deterred. With the so-called Memphis Mafia — a group of Presley friends and employees who served and protected the King — at his beck and call, Elvis’s manager instigated a complex system by which they changed vehicles several times before arriving at Benedict Canyon. As the Colonel looked on, Mal, Neil Aspinall, the Beatles’ press agent Tony Barrow and the Beatles ducked into a black limo. “For once,” Mal later quipped, “John, George, Paul and Ringo were ready to leave on time, and they climbed into the waiting cars at the bungalow bang on the dot.” Shouting, “Roll ’em!” out of his car window, the Colonel’s vehicle snaked its way through Hollywood, the convoy followed by a police motorcycle unit. By 10pm, the motorcade had arrived at Elvis’s house at Perugia Way. Incredibly, the Colonel’s plan had worked.

Mal was beside himself, feeling a combination of reverence and utter shock. After being served a large Scotch and Coke by one of the King’s minions, Paul beckoned Mal to meet his idol in the flesh. “Presley turned, and we shook hands. ‘This is your number-one fan, El,’ said Paul. ‘And he’s with us.’” Mal was thunderstruck by the sound of the King’s “strangely quiet voice” as he said, “Sure pleased to meet you,” to the roadie.

As the evening progressed, Mal marvelled at Elvis’s luxurious home, with its well-stocked cocktail bar and lounge, its thickly carpeted rooms, and, in the den, a massive fireplace with a copper chimney disappearing into the ceiling at the centre of the room. “Pretty soon the record player was working full blast,” Mal wrote. “Elvis played a whole lot of albums, many of them the Beatles, but modestly, perhaps, did not play any of his own. The noise was terrific, the drinks were flowing, the talk was animated, and, as I say, it was just like being at home with the lads from Liverpool.”

Eventually, Elvis picked up a bass guitar that was plugged into an amp positioned near the television set. “He began to strum away on the thing, playing quite ably, but he insisted that he was only learning,” Mal wrote. “Keep practising, fella. You’ll get to the top yet,” Paul quipped. As Mal looked on, “the most fantastic impromptu unrecorded session of all time” ensued when “El found some guitars for John, George and Paul and a set of bongo drums for Ringo, and they began to make the place rock with an hour of improvised beat music. It was fabulous.”

“There was only one hitch during the little concert the boys put on,” Mal later reflected. Nobody had a plectrum. “Mal’s got a pick,” said Paul. “He’s always got picks. He carries them on holidays with him.” Crestfallen that he had neglected to bring his well-travelled doctor’s bag, along with its ready supply of guitar picks, Mal scurried to the kitchen, where he fashioned pieces of plastic cutlery into makeshift plectrums.

Ringo and Mal tried their hand at pool, losing four straight games to members of the Memphis Mafia, while, “John lost $9 at roulette with Colonel Parker and Brian Epstein, who had joined us on getting back from New York.” In one of Mal’s favourite memories of that night, John pretended to be a reporter.

“Once, when I was talking to El, sitting on a settee, John came screaming up to us and jabbed an imaginary microphone under El’s nose and began to fire off a string of meaningless questions — which I must say were a pretty accurate take-off of some of the daft things that interviewers ask at our own press conferences. ‘What are you going to do when the bubble bursts, Elvis?’ he asked. ‘What toothpaste do you use? What time do you go to bed? Do you like girls? Who’s your favourite artist?’ ‘Yeah, yeah,’ chuckled El. ‘I’ve heard ’em all before.’”

Escaping from guns and a mob in Manila

ON THE MORNING OF JULY 3, 1966, the Beatles and their entourage left for the Philippines by way of Hong Kong. “Manila was our next port of call on our way back to England,” Mal later remembered, “and it was here, for the first time in my life, I was to experience real fear.” As it turned out, things were cockeyed from the outset. After attending their usual post-arrival press conference, John, Paul, George and Ringo were hustled out of a rear entrance and taken to the harbour, where they were ushered aboard a motor yacht.

“It was really humid, it was Mosquito City,” George reported, “and we were all sweating and frightened. For the first time ever in our Beatle existence, we were cut off from Neil, Mal and Brian Epstein. There was not one of them around, and not only that, but we had a whole row of cops with guns lining the deck around this cabin that we were in on the boat. We were really gloomy, very brought down by the whole thing.”

Things would get worse. After Brian succeeded in securing the Beatles’ return to the mainland, they ensconced themselves in the opulent Manila Hotel for the night. What the members of the band’s entourage didn’t know was that the Beatles had received an invitation from Philippine president Ferdinand Marcos and First Lady Imelda Marcos requesting their appearance at Malacanang Palace at 11 o’clock the next morning. Only, Brian and the Beatles never laid eyes on it. After an incident in America, at the British embassy in Washington, in February 1964, when the band felt they had been snubbed by upper class, titled guests, official requests for the Beatles’ presence were routinely ignored. Instead, the group went about their business in Manila, performing the first of two shows for 35,000 spectators at José Rizal Memorial Stadium and another audience of 50,000 later that same day.

For the moment, the band and their entourage hadn’t felt any blowback from having snubbed the First Lady, save for scathing news reports on Filipino TV. That night, the promoter arranged for a lavish party at the hotel, with numerous prostitutes on hand to cater to the boys’ needs. On the morning of July 5, Mal began to sense trouble when a pistolpacking member of the promoter’s staff requested autographed pictures of the Beatles. “I was in the middle of explaining that I had given away most of the photographs,” Mal wrote, “keeping a few for the plane crew on the way home, when I was cut short by the same gentleman brandishing a gun in my face and repeating the demand. I couldn’t give them to him fast enough. This was the prelude to a morning of terror.”

Mal could feel the tension rising as he sought out a truck to transport the luggage and gear to the airport. “The feeling in the air was that nobody wanted to be associated with us,” he wrote. “On arriving at the airport, I was informed by the police on duty that I couldn’t park near the airline gate, but in the normal parking area like ordinary people. Their attitude being, ‘Who do you think you are?’” When the band and their entourage arrived at the airport, Mal discovered that no one would help them, save for the KLM airline attendants, who processed their baggage.

Everything went to hell when they began making their way to the international lounge, only to be intercepted by a dozen Filipinos. “It was obvious that they were looking to cause trouble, and quite prepared to beat the hell out of us, because of the fiasco the previous evening with the First Lady,” Mal wrote. “They were standing on our toes, jabbing us with elbows, generally giving us a bad time, and the last thing we could do was hit back. Up to that point, they were just a nuisance and making us feel very uncomfortable. I would give my right arm for any of those boys, but under these circumstances, it was most inadvisable to retaliate in any way whatsoever.”

It was chauffeur Alf Bicknell who could no longer contain himself. Daring to strike back at the assailants, he was viciously attacked, ending up flat on the airport floor with a pair of cracked ribs. Despite his large size, Mal sustained numerous blows, as did Ringo, who was knocked down with a swift uppercut and crawled away as assailants kicked him. Things seemed to get worse as the group approached customs, where John and George were punched and kicked. Paul managed to avoid the brunt of the violence by sprinting ahead. Along with Alf, Brian suffered the most, sustaining a sprained ankle during the mêlée. At one point, Mal realised he was bleeding from his leg.

Mal would never forget the surrealness of walking across the tarmac after the violence they had experienced in the terminal. The ruffians were still in evidence, hurling insults and epithets as the Brits made their way to the waiting KLM plane. But the fans were there too, shouting, “We love you, Beatles!” and tossing bouquets of flowers at their feet.

Once on board the plane, Mal wrote, “We all gave a sigh of relief, thinking we were safe on neutral territory. We were all shaking, beads of fear running down our faces.” That’s when immigration officials boarded the plane, demanding that Mal and Tony Bramwell follow them back to the terminal.

In the immigration office, they found themselves once again at the whimsy of the mob, being jostled, pushed and shoved as officials demanded they fill out new immigration forms. As TV crews recorded their every move, the two struggled to complete the forms, their hands visibly shaking in terror. And then, just like that, they were being led back to the plane, once again experiencing a strange gauntlet of violence and insults on the one hand and the goodwill of the assembled Beatles fans on the other. After some 40 intense minutes away from their friends, Mal and Tony were back in their seats. “The last words we heard before the doors closed were, ‘We love you, Beatles,’” Mal wrote.

Mal Evans died on January 4, 1976. He was shot by the police in a California apartment as he brandished a rifle, having taken a suspected Valium overdose. His diaries and memorabilia lay on the floor next to him.

Extracted from Living the Beatles Legend by Kenneth Womack (Mudlark, £25), published on November 14. 

(source)

#mal evans #kenneth womack #from today's times